A spark shot down Dipper’s legs and he sped up, thrusting harder. Precum leaked from his tip, dribbling down and leaving a trail that connected him to the body below him. On an impulse, he turned his head, burying his face in the messy black hair. It smelled like pine needles (is that supposed to be funny?) and something bitter. Dipper panted heavily. His breath ruffled the corpse’s hair.